Long Journey

Sucking a coughdrop, Alphonse Capone faced Judge James Herbert Wilkerson in Chicago's Federal Court last week. Snorkey was nervous. Fortnight ago a jury eleven-twelfths rustic had found him guilty of failing to pay an income tax during the years 1924-28, had decided he feloniously "attempted to evade & defeat" payment during three of those years. Now he was to be sentenced. As a concession to the solemnity of the occasion he had left off his jewelry, was wearing a comparatively sober pinchback suit of blue. He fondled a bandaged right fore-(trigger)-finger, sucked and sucked on his coughdrop.

Judge Wilkerson was nervous too. In a low voice he ordered Snorkey to stand up. Snorkey clambered to his feet, gulped, swallowed his coughdrop. Slowly, deliberately Judge Wilkerson sentenced him to the limit--17 years in prison, $50,000 in fines. Snorkey hiccuped, regurgitated his coughdrop.

Sentence. A moment later Judge Wilkerson explained the sentence in detail and Snorkey realized that he would not have to spend 17 years in prison. For the felony of attempting to evade tax payments during three years his sentence was five years for each offense, but two of the terms were to run concurrently. For failing to pay up the other two times he received one year each, but those two sentences were also to run concurrently. Total: eleven years. The fine for each count was $10,000; total: $50,000, and all of that Snorkey must pay.

But if Judge Wilkerson was less severe than he might have been, he was running no risk of ambiguity. Patiently he explained : that Snorkey's sentence of six months for contempt of court, which he has not yet served, might run concurrently with the felony sentences, so that Snorkey would not have to serve more than eleven years; but, in case a higher court overruled his sentence on the three felony counts, thereby cutting ten years from the sentences, the two misdemeanor sentences and the sentence for contempt must be served consecutively. Thus Judge Wilkerson made as sure as possible that Snorkey spend at least two-and-a-half years in jail.

Busy newshawks immediately figured that if he got time off for good behavior Snorkey would spend six years, eight months, 15 days in the penitentiary and eleven months in the Cook County jail, a total of seven years, seven months, 15 days. By that time he would be 40. In addition to his $50,000 fine he was charged with court costs estimated by the prosecution at $30,000, and he still owed $215,000 in back taxes.

Snorkey's 235-lb. body seemed to lose weight as he stood before the bar. Finally he got down his coughdrop, smiled weakly at his attorneys, Michael Ahern & Albert Fink. Up stepped Messrs. Ahern & Fink, pleaded for leniency. Said the judge: "I think I will adhere to my ruling." Then he ordered Capone to jail "forthwith." The lawyers filed notice of appeal.

Sighed Snorkey: "Well, pal, I'm going on a long journey."

A few minutes later he was submitting to the ignominy of being fingerprinted, but there was still fight left in Snorkey. The bandage on his forefinger prevented the taking of prints of the first three fingers & thumb of his right hand. "That's something the Government won't get out of me," boasted Snorkey, with his trigger finger still unrecorded. U. S. marshals shuffled him down the corridor and into an elevator, and soon he was in the first Chicago cell he has occupied in his eleven years of racketeering.

Significance. Thus ended the greatest courtroom victory in many a year. Three years ago softspoken, wild-haired U. S. District Attorney George Emmerson Q (for nothing) Johnson began his long campaign to dispose of gangsters by the left-handed method of jailing them for nonpayment of income taxes. Long and patiently he worked, had his assistants dig up great piles of evidence. He soon secured convictions and sentences against eight major gangsters, including Snorkey's brother Ralph ("Bottles") Capone and Snorkey's lieutenant, Jack Gusick (both of whom are still free pending appeals). But it was Snorkey he wanted. And it was Snorkey he got.

After Court. Said Mr. Johnson: "This is the beginning of the end of Chicago's gangs."

Snorkey, hiding from photographers under his coat, shuffled into his cell in the county jail, found as a cellmate a prisoner who was in jail in default of a $100 fine. Snorkey handed him a $100 bill, told him to pay his way out. Warden David Moneypenny decided Snorkey ought to have more privacy, moved him into a big cell on the fifth floor of the hospital ward, gave him the companionship of his bodyguard, Philip D'Andrea, waiting to face a charge of contempt of court (TIME, Oct. 19).

Snarled Snorkey: "I got a low, dirty deal. If it hadn't of been me I wouldn't of been convicted."

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